


comfort in the mundane

by m0nst3rfuck3r



Series: unfortunate endearments associated with one jay gatsby [1]
Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Gay Nick Carraway, Jay Gatsby Lives, Living disasters, M/M, Oblivious Jay Gatsby, Pining, Roommates, someone save them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-02-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:02:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22913668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m0nst3rfuck3r/pseuds/m0nst3rfuck3r
Summary: Gatsby has been recovering at Nick's house ever since he got shot. It's an odd situation, but Nick enjoys the strange new dynamic in their relationship.
Relationships: Nick Carraway/Jay Gatsby
Series: unfortunate endearments associated with one jay gatsby [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646941
Comments: 8
Kudos: 197





	comfort in the mundane

If Nick had a word to describe the current state of his life, it would be ‘messy’. 

Ever since Gatsby had so desperately asked Nick to care for him while he recovered from the gunshot wound, Nick hasn’t had but one second of rest every day. He doesn’t mind too much, he likes being busy, but something about it all being so sudden and hectic made him rather stressed. 

Gatsby, Nick has decided, is not the best house guest.

There was a time only about a month ago in which he would be delighted, flustered even, to have known that Gatsby would be living in Nick’s house for an extended period of time. He would have gotten all red in the face and fixed everything to perfection, if not so the other could both be comfortable and find a little respect for Nick. 

Now, however, Nick just wished Gatsby would stop using all of his paper. 

Gatsby had apparently felt ‘inspired’ by Nick's own writing and thought it would be an absolutely fantastic idea to use the typewriter and subsequently, all of Nick’s materials to begin journaling his everyday life and thoughts. Nick had thought it was stupid at first. 

“Gatsby, you do nothing but lay on my couch and eat my food, what could you possibly write about?” was what he had said when Gatsby had told him of his brilliant idea to start writing. Gatsby had simply flashed him a smile and said:

“More than you think.”

Initially, this was incredibly worrying. But Nick soon found that by ‘more than you think’, Gatsby had meant recounting every minuscule and boring detail of his day. And occasionally, he would write about one of the falsified stories he told about the illustrious Jay Gatsby and talk about why he had made them up in the first place. Nick had at first been interested as Gatsby would read the entries to him, but his interest soon faded as the thesis statement of every entry basically became, ‘I thought it would impress Daisy’, which was not exactly something he felt like hearing. Nick was pissed at her, rightfully so, he was sure. 

Gatsby’s initial reaction to the news that Daisy had left was a long list of questions. Asking Nick if she was okay, if Tom made her do it, so on and so forth. 

At this point in time, Gatsby didn’t exactly seem over it, but he was doing better. For the most part, he didn’t seem to like to talk about everything that happened. 

“Nick, what do you think of Venice?” Gatsby asked suddenly, and Nick turned his head with a raised eyebrow. Gatsby was seated at his dining room table, a travel magazine in hand. He was eating some pastries Nick had brought home earlier in the day, hair unfixed and dressed casually.

“Venice? I’ve never been,” he said. Had Gatsby just conveniently forgotten that Nick didn’t live as lavishly as him? Gatsby suddenly laughed, shaking his head.

“Of course you haven't!” Ouch, but okay, “Just think, old sport, I’m sure you’ve seen pictures of the place.” Nick hummed. He had, obviously. He shrugged his shoulders, returning to cutting up tomatoes. 

“I’m not sure. It’s pretty, I suppose,`` he said. Gatsby nodded, apparently satisfied with that lame-ass response. 

“Wouldn’t it be grand to live there?” Gatsby asked, and Nick whipped his head up to look at Gatsby so fast it was a wonder he didn’t injure himself. 

“Are you thinking about moving?” he asked. Nick absolutely did not want Gatsby so far away from him. It was a secret to everybody but himself of course, but Nick had found himself caring for Gatsby beyond the realm of friendship. Nick had known of his… preferences… since he was a teenager, so the revelation to himself of his feelings wasn’t all that hard to understand. Gatsby eyed Nick for a moment, before shaking his head. 

“No, I’m not. At least not very far. I have been thinking of moving out of that horrid mansion, however. It’s so empty, and I’d rather not think of who I bought it to impress,” he said, smiling bitterly, “I’d like to buy something smaller, less impressive, maybe something like this place!” Gatsby said, smiling like that was a compliment. He wasn’t wrong, but Christ Almighty, read the room. “I wouldn’t want to be too far from you, however. I’ve not got many true friends other than you,``he said. Oh. Oh! Nick had had an idea that he was Gatsby’s only real friend, but he hadn’t really thought that the other valued Nick all that much. Suddenly, he felt a little bad for thinking that way. Gatsby stood up quickly, a hand momentarily hovering over his wound. The movement must’ve made it hurt. 

“I think I’d like you to write me something,” he said, and Nick looked over in puzzlement. “A short story, of course, nothing too long. I would love it to be about a young woman moving to Venice. Pursuing something, anything. I don’t care much about what it is, surprise me!” He announced. Nick stared at him, dumbfounded. What the hell could this be about? 

“Where did this idea come from?” Nick asks, and Gatsby shrugs, flashing him a white smile. 

“Not sure. I’d just like to read something written just for me,” He says. Nick hesitates. 

“I don’t write anymore, I told you that. You’ve been writing a bit recently, why don’t you try your hand at it?” He tries. Gatsby continues smiling, approaching Nick and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don’t be silly! I don’t have a creative mind. You have just that, don’t you?” He asked. Nick flushed a bit from the compliment, eyes returning to the cutting board as he finished cutting up his tomato. He really didn’t feel like writing anything, but something inside of him really didn’t want to refuse the blonde. He sighed, sagging his shoulders. He really could never give in when it came to the other. 

“Alright then,” He says, shaking his head. Gatsby, however, looks enthralled with this answer. He moves to throw his arm around Nick’s shoulder, beaming brightly. 

“Hey! Careful, you don’t want to rip your stitches.” Nick said, and Gatsby simply laughed, separating from Nick and leaning against the counter. Nick moved the tomato slices into the bowl, mixing everything together. Gatsby had picked the magazine back up, eyes moving across the page in interest. This was… very domestic. Nick liked the way it felt. He smiled at the thought, and suddenly a rash, frankly dumb question crossed his mind. 

“Gatsby?” He asks, and the other looks to him, “You said you wanted to move somewhere smaller. How about… how would you feel…” He trails off, wondering how to word the question. Apparently Gatsby understands what he’s trying to ask, because he straightens out, looking at Nick with something of a hopeful expression.

“Are you asking if I should like to move in with you?” Gatsby wondered. Nick nodded. He hardly had to wait a second before Gatsby smiled at him, entirely gummy and entirely happy. Nick’s heart began to beat a little faster in his chest.

“Oh, I should love to, old sport! I’m extremely glad that you’ve asked.” He said, closing his magazine and placing it on the counter. Nick smiled back at him.

Nick had continued making his salad, and at some point Gatsby had left the room to attend to his own business. It was later when Nick was listening to the radio and eating his lunch when Gatsby had entered the room, a paper in hand. Nick sighed, ready to hear another rambling journal entry. 

He was pleasantly surprised to learn that Gatsby had written about how excited he was about the story Nick would write and how much he liked staying in Nick’s home. 

‘Oh,’ Nick thought as he listened to Gatsby read, ‘I am so in love with this man.’


End file.
